Storming Black Waters
by teaonthestairs
Summary: Mid-Season 6. Buffy’s guardian angel always watches, especially in the blackest of times. Ongoing...
1. Memories

**Storming black waters. **

**By Rosie.**

Disclaimer: Simple really… not mine. Never will be. Please don't sue. 

Spoilers: Anything before mid season 6 is game…

A/N Sorry if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes. My lovely Beta Meals (Xanya-forever) has big exams coming up in like a week and I don't want to bother her. So don't blame anyone but me. 

Also I'm a review whore (who isn't) so be a nice little monkey and after reading this go press that lovely little button down there and write something constructive though you wouldn't go on my black list if you do flame me… 

Ok now off you go (I'm in a patronizing mood, can't you tell) 

.+. 

Sometimes when the night closes in like a suffocating blanket, and the vamp activity is in a lull, she'll stand here and stare down at the storming, black waves and listen to them call out her name in a endless hiss. In these moments she lets the barrier drop and the memories flow, and like the waves crashing on the rocks below they crash into her and she drowns. She remembers first the freshest pain. 

The pain of being ripped out of heaven. 

Then slowing like the evening tide, older pain creeps up and then all she sees is the darkest black as she is engulfed in their swirling depths.    

The pain of her fingers against the roof of her coffin. 

The pain of the dimensional tear. 

The pain of living without her mother.   

The pain of watching Riley disappear into the night. 

The pain of her arm snapping against Sunday's cool fingers. 

The pain of watching Him walk away

The pain of finding Him again.

The pain of the moment she realized it was either Him, or the world.

The pain of the moment she decided. 

The pain of releasing it was her fault that His demon roamed free. 

The pain of The Masters fangs.     

And as all this pain washes over her she can't help it, the world seems bleak and she takes half a step forward towards the edge and towards what she thinks of as peace.   
And then its my time to act. She must in some part of her mind feel me; they all do. And I relish it. That I'm not forgotten.

I place an invisible hand on her shoulder and unlock the golden memories. The memories that are kept at bay by the dark drowning tide of the bad ones. 

And as she remembers for a moment the untainted love that she has for Dawn, the joy of seeing the sun rise after a seemly endless night, the warm tingle of her connection with Angel, Willows tight hugs, Xander's grin, Giles fatherly looks.

She takes a step back and walks away, promising herself that it will be the last time she stands on the edge, but knowing that when the night closes in like a suffocating blanket and the vamp activity is in a lull she'll again stand on the cliff and consider jumping into a water grave. 

.+.


	2. Dreams

**Dreams.**

**By Rosie W**

Disclaimer: BtVS isn't mine (does that shock you?) They belong to Joss, I'm just playing in his sandbox.

A/N As with all my Stories, this one is dedicated to Meals (Xanya-forever) not only is she my Beta and muse, she is truly awesome, now go read here stuff.

This is part of an on-going series of story's. All set in season 6, all Buffy central.   

I'm a review addict; don't leave me without my fix.    

**….. **

Home is dark when I stumble through the door after another night patrol. I have a slight scratch on my side, a careless mistake that I don't care about at all. I curl up in bed, fighting sleep and at the same time begging it to come. Every night I have nightmares, they haunt me and I hate them. 

I usually dream about the feel of my fingers being shredded as they tried to rip open my own coffin. 

I usually dream about how the walls closed in, making me feel more trapped than I was. 

I always wake up sweating. But tonight it seems like somebody doesn't want me broken up on the inside, someone wants me to sleep a whole night because the dream I have is one of my childhood. I'm five and being tucked into bed by my mother.        

She would lean in, and I would feel protected. Just the simple act of her standing over me and all the fear would disappear. Even back then I knew that she would do anything in her power to protect me. 

She would give me a motherly kiss on the forehead, and I would feel loved. Back then I loved easily. Not anymore. But after all these years I still love her, and nothing has changed. 

Her kiss was like a shield keeping out the nightmares. She hummed a soft song as she closed the door to my room, and I've never heard anything more beautiful. Its melody kept the shadows away long after she had gone and as I drifted off to sleep I too was singing its tune.

………

I look down at her, peacefully asleep for the first time since coming back to life. It had taken me a lot longer to control her dreams then to bring forth memories. It sounds so sinister –  controlling her dreams, but I can't ever hurt her. I would have the life sucked out of me again before I even damage a hair on her head. God that's so clichéd. I felt deep sleep take her and know she won't have any dreams till morning. I slowly trickle away. 


	3. Blood

**Blood. ****  
  
****By Rosie W. ****  
**  
Disclaimer: (I'm lazy see first two chapters)   
  
A/N I just want to give many hugs and kisses to the people who reviewed, you guys are awesome. And I want to give Meals Nicholas Brendon but he's resisting my charm and refusing to get into the gift box I brought.   
  
Now be a good chap and review   
**. .**  
  
The blood is thick, sliding across her palm in slow streams; it oozes across her hands, and drips from her fingers, making the water in the sink a dirty pink.   
  
She makes no move it stop its flow, she just stares.   
  
Shes curious.   
  
She wonders why.   
  
Why is it her blood?   
  
Why is it her blood that closes portals?   
  
Why is it her blood that creates sisters from energy?   
  
Why is it her blood that vampires crave?   
  
Her blood. She suddenly hates it, hates the problems it brings. She wonders that if it all drained away, would her problems drain away also.   
  
She likes that thought Just draining away.   
  
The sink starts to empty and she watchers as the dirty pink water spins away. She wonders if thats all life is, a huge, dirty, pink mess spinning down into a void.   
  
No problems.   
  
No coffins.   
  
No feelings.   
  
Just a void.   
  
The broken glass is stopping the cut from closing properly yet she makes no move to remove the fragments, which glisten like tears.   
  
She misses tears.   
  
Misses the relief they bring.   
  
But to cry tears, is to cry feelings, and she doesnt want feelings; she wants rest.   
  
Noises in the next room draw her attention for a moment, but only a moment.   
  
She knows that they will come soon, with their loud footsteps and blinding smiles. She knows that they expect her, too, to have loud footsteps and blinding smiles.   
  
She knows that they wont want to see the blood. Her blood.   
  
I watch her turn the tap and wash away the tear-like fragments, wash away the remaining blood.   
  
I watch the friends enter with the loud footsteps and blinding smiles.   
  
I watch her inner self fade away to be replaced by a plastic copy.   
  
I watch as she turns with loud footsteps and a blinding smile.   
  
I watch and wish I could do more.


End file.
